


Going Back, Going Forth

by BrokePerception



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception





	1. Chapter 1

 

**CHALLENGE by _MegaNerdAlert:_**

_"During the final battle, Hermione is hit with a hex which ages her about 40 years – a spell that takes away youth. Ron is no longer interested in her because she is not 'young and beautiful', and is physically past an age where she'd want to start a family. Once again Hermione retreats to her books and spends the next few years earning her mastery in [fill in the blank], and then returns to Hogwarts to teach at the invitation of the Headmistress. Hermione must address how she is to 'go on with life', and be happy with someone, when she feels the time to be young and in love has been whisked away from her. Minerva has some helpful suggestions as to how to get Hermione through it all."_

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BETA READ by _Peetsden_

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**Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 1**

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MAY 1998

Hermione panted, watching her adversary go down at last. He toppled slowly over, a loud smack resounding when his fully-rigid body met with the dusty old, cracked floor. It could only barely be heard in the overwhelming noise of ongoing battle, though: screams of defensive spells, intermingled with more curses, emitted cries of loss or victory, the sound of the structures of the castle or other being blown to little pieces or coming down. She checked her surroundings, quickly confirming that she was alone, the Death Eater down now. When Hermione had deflected the curse he had aimed at Luna Lovegood, Travers had been far from happy and had at once begun fighting her instead, hoping to kill or at least seriously maim her. Travers had forced Hermione to separate from the rest and the main fighting that way.

The Muggle-Born witch tried to just catch a breath as she stood there, but she didn't really seem able to. Travers had made a tough foe, and a couple of times, he had broken though Hermione's Shield Charm very nearly when she had cast one to deflect his curses. It had only been luck, she thought, that he had been too slow when she cast the _Petrificus Totalus_ upon him. Someone had released a scream further away, and for one tiny second, his attention had strayed away from their battle, which Hermione had taken full advantage of. The Death Eater's ego and the fact that he had nearly killed Hermione a couple of times must have strengthened him in his belief that he could take her on easily… but that had proved foolish, as had his second of non-attention.

With a flick of her 10¾ wand, Hermione easily chained both his feet and his hands. He would need one of his own to Revive him, and the chains easily could be removed, but, if anything, it might take a second longer, and she had discovered very soon that any second in battle could be very crucial indeed.

Gulping air once more, she ripped her gaze finally away from Travers's unmoving one and followed the sound of the battle, running back. She saw the ravage was distinctly worse than earlier, even if she had no idea how much earlier and even if most of her attention had been on trying to stay alive and incapacitate the Death Eater then. Her eyes flashed everywhere, alert. Hermione tried not to dwell so much on the victims she came across; there were so many men and women and children from both sides for who all help had come too late.

She could see it all in the vacancy of their faces, their eyes. So many had fallen already, but she couldn't let her thoughts stray in that direction, not right now, because if she did, she would lose her focus and wouldn't manage to save herself, to eventually become one of those. She needed to focus. She needed to stay alive and find Harry and Ron and the others who fought on their side. Still, she couldn't help the indescribable feeling of loss swirling in the pit of her stomach as she considered what she saw and concluded that based on that alone, it seemed that way more people had lost their lives than there would still be alive when she got to the Entrance Hall and courtyard. While the lives of everyone were of course of importance, she begged most for those of the old Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix.

All Hell had broken loose in the courtyard when Harry had killed Voldemort there. His loyal Death Eaters, those who remained of the army he had brought to Hogwarts at least, had continued to fight for him even with him gone.

A motion from the corner of her hazel eyes made Hermione stop, and she looked back to find someone faintly waving from beneath a large pile of rubble. A Hufflepuff tie caught her attention and she hurried over, as she did recognizing the face of the young pupil. He could have been only Third Year, at most. The stone archway seemed to have come down partially upon him and blocked his body underneath. The panic in the young boy's blue eyes didn't go unnoticed for even a second by Hermione. If she could only get the most rubble off of him to relieve the weight… "I'm here," Hermione whispered. She knew that it must sound quite stupid and useless, but it was all that she could say, even if she doubted if it was at all comforting and suspected it wasn't. She began levitating the heavy rocks off of him in fast-motion. She might be able to save his two legs, to save his life… She couldn't just leave him lying there like that. Hermione had quite nearly managed to clear the bigger rocks away when suddenly the boy's blue eyes enlarged and he began mouthing something she couldn't really capture. She tried to lean closer to hear him just when she got her answer in a vivid green bolt of lightning soaring past her right cheek, missing it only by a few inches.

Hermione cast her Shield Charm as she looked over her shoulder and turned her body slightly to see who had cast it and saw a familiar squat little man, grinning wide in _triumph._ She had stood against him before, and Hermione's heart hammered in her throat as she remembered Kingsley pushing her aside and taking over just in time… The boy couldn't run. She needed to get the Death Eater away from there. She didn't have much chance to look for a solution, though, because his next curse easily broke through her Shield Charm and she only just managed to duck down and roll to the side, casting the first curse that came to her mind back at him as well, but it unfortunately missed, Hermione's aim far off right in the middle of her moving.

When his next spell left his stubby wand, a bolt of vivid purple flashing in Hermione's direction she recognized as having been directed at her successfully, once before, when in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione rolled back in order to dodge it only just in time.

Squinting, she watched it connect with what once had been a tall and proud Hogwarts armor, now crumpled against the wall where she had just been squatting. She saw the material burst to pieces before her, a small bolt of bright purple might bouncing back from the shiny metal, getting redirected, soaring over Hermione's head. It happened in a matter of seconds, her mind processing what was going to happen too late. The witch cast a Shield Charm again and turned her head as she screamed, "No!", just as the reflected spell hit the boy she had been trying to save on the side of his face. Hermione knew her efforts to save him earlier had been useless.

She turned to her adversary once more and saw a sick smile spread on the bastard's face. He reveled in the fact that he had killed someone and she had had to watch. Breaking her Shield Charm, she fired a _Sectumsempra_ and ran to take cover behind the pieces of a broken stone statue across the hallway, crouching as fast as she possibly could, the squat Death Eater's curses following her as she did. If only she saw a way to be fast enough to hit without risking getting cursed herself…

"Hermione, get down!"

As she whipped her head in the direction of where the voice had come from, she saw a flash of Charlie Weasley duck behind the corner before the wall was blasted away and collapsed on top of the Death Eater, who hadn't been fast enough to really react. The spell had been fired right after Charlie's words of warning to Hermione, who got blown back into an already broken hallway closet by the force of the blast. A flash of yellow flashed before her eyes. The sound of someone screaming in agony reached her ears before she lost consciousness.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 2**

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Madam Pomfrey bit her lip nervously as she held the mirror before Hermione, who gasped as she saw her own reflection, raising her hand to her mouth as tears sprung to hazel eyes. Was this how she looked like at sixty? She barely recognized herself anymore. The most eye-catching changes were those wrinkles in her face and the grey that had gotten into her bushy brown strands. She touched her hand to her cheek, letting her fingertips run over the wrinkles, and as she did, was confronted with the way her hands looked again. She lowered them into her lap once more as she searched the reflection for something familiar –– anything familiar at all. Her eyes did seem to have the same color, but the hazel still looked different compared to paler and wrinkled skin. Was this whom she was now? She shook her head and turned away from the mirror, and Madam Pomfrey laid it down at the foot of the bed obligingly, face down. Oh, Merlin.

It wasn't necessarily so that she hadn't wanted to become old one day, that she had opposed to becoming older… but not about forty years in just the stretch of a few hours' time. It definitely was a huge difference, after all. It was something she couldn't quite accept. She remembered a squat Death Eater challenging her, Charlie Weasley's face before getting blasted right into a closet and seeing a flash of yellow light. Hermione Granger had had to close her eyes then at the brightness of it and the pounding headache… and then absolutely nothing. Next thing she knew, she had woken in the Hogwarts hospital wing, slowly opening her eyes to the cracked ceiling and looking at her surroundings, only to find the bed in which she was laying was shielded from view from the others for one reason or another.

She had realized that she was a little thirsty and had slowly reached for the glass on her night table in the morning light… taking it, immediately letting it slip from her fingers once more, releasing a cry of disbelief just at the sight of her hands. They were not hers anymore. She had touched her face to find it didn't feel like hers anymore either, had thrown the sheets off to look down at the rest of her body just when Madam Pomfrey had moved past the curtains that shielded her from the view of the rest of the ward, looking all the worse for wear from the battle and maybe a tad frightened as she looked at Hermione.

As the sounds of creaking beds and stray mumbling about them had grown steadily louder, indicating that at least a few others were in the Hogwarts hospital wing, the witch had cast Silencing Charms both to draw the noise from the others away and keep the others from hearing them. She had then turned to Hermione and told her that something had happened… but before Madam Pomfrey had managed to say anything more, Hermione had demanded a mirror, wanting to look at her face. A pained look had crossed Madam Pomfrey's face at Hermione's request, but after a couple of seconds and a soft plea from Hermione, she had figured the young witch would have to see it, see herself, sooner or later and conjured a mirror right from thin air.

"What happened to me?" she asked, turning to Madam Pomfrey, her voice not really like hers either anymore. It sounded slightly rougher somehow even though higher pitched from the utter panic raging through her system. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she waited for an answer from Madam Pomfrey, wanting her to tell her it was only temporary, but alas, the answer she got was not a cheerful one.

"Time is something incredibly dangerous. I have no idea what's happened, even if I have my theories, but it is quite obvious you've hit or you've been hit with something which aged you with about forty years. Charlie Weasley said he was there when it happened and saw a flash of yellow light before you crashed into the hallway closet, but as far as I know, there's no spell or curse which would have that same effect."

"This kind of accidental magic should be impossible, no?" Hermione whimpered, cringing again at the sound of her own voice.

Madam Pomfrey's face looked suddenly pained again. She regarded Hermione for a little while, pondering before speaking finally, "That's the thing. I'm not entirely sure whether what happened was accidental…" As she saw Hermione's mouth open to comment, she held up her hand to silence her. "I know what you're going to say now. Why cast curses to deliberately age someone four decades in the middle of the battle? I'm afraid I can't answer that one either. However, I know Time and all its effects and all that has been affected by it is safely locked in the Department of Mysteries… or is supposed to anyway."

After Hermione's and other DA members' little escapade to that Department of Mysteries and after the battle until mere hours before, Poppy Pomfrey wasn't secretive anymore. She knew very well that Hermione had enough knowledge or would see through any half-truths or misdirections she could possibly tell her now anyway, whether or not with the help of a book or two. As expected, Hermione nodded as she told her. However, she still had questions. She knew that it wasn't odd to have those –– she had the same ones, after all. Alas, that meant she didn't have any answers either. "I don't see how it connects. Most importantly, I don't see why."

"I don't really either."

Her panic just a tad reduced now, Hermione took a moment to look to Madam Pomfrey and take in the state she was in. Her hair stood haywire, like it hadn't been combed for decades anymore. Her face looked pale and rather dirty, a cut adorning her forehead above her left eyebrow and a much deeper one on the other side of her face just above her jaw. She definitely had been a part of the battle as much as everyone else. She, too, had fought for her life and that of others on their side just as much as Hermione herself had. She took a breath and asked the questions she feared she knew the answer to already. Time was, after all, indeed something very dangerous. Once you made a tiny mistake in time, you couldn't change it. For instance, once you had used a Time-Turner, you couldn't make it undone and go back to the now, undoing what you had done before. "Is there anything at all that you can do about this?"

"Time's not only very dangerous; it is also esoteric," Madam Pomfrey told her. She was not the sort of woman who beat about the bush unnecessarily –– Hermione knew how to interpret that little sentence already, even before she continued to talk and then said in more unambiguous words, "You can't correct any mistakes that have been made by changing time, even if you knew exactly what's gone amiss, which in this case we don't and can't possibly find. I've asked the advice of some specialized Healers at St. Mungo's, the best, and they can't possibly say something about this situation now either. More research may lead to something, and we can ask some information from other countries, consider experimental Healer magic… but there's no solution at hand now. I'm sorry, Hermione."

The lack of use of Hermione's last name fully defined how the mediwitch felt in regard to the aged pupil. No matter how sorry she was, though, it didn't make her diagnosis of the situation any easier to dispense.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 3**

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AUGUST 2002

Hazel eyes followed the tiny bird as it pushed back off of the tree branch it had been sitting on and fluttered away on its tiny wings. It was a really small bird indeed, and in order to stay in the air, it seemed to have to expend a lot of effort and flap its wings incredibly fast. At first, it only dropped but soon, it flew up higher and off, until Hermione could no longer see it as it joined another flock of birds. She looked at the nest the tiny bird had made, the chirping of its tinier younglings reaching her as she sat on the park bench right below the tree.

The soft sound was eclipsed by two children running past screaming at their hardest, as they hurried in the direction of the ice cream truck. Hermione agreed that the ice cream vender had picked a good spot. It wasn't the first time that she had sat there that summer and each and every time, she had seen him sell a lot of ice creams, especially to the younger children but sometimes to the older pupils as well. She had bought a few ice creams off of him herself, too. Hermione smiled weakly as behind the little boy and girl, a young mom hurried on high heels through the green grass. Her smile faltered as she heard the children squeal. _"Citron! Citron, Maman!"_

She would have loved to have children as well. Hermione had always thought a boy and a girl would be perfect, but alas, her youth had been taken away four years prior, and with it her chances of getting married, having children… just having a family. Technically, it was of course possible, but her life just really hadn't been the same after what had happened anymore. Hermione Granger's social life, for instance, had broken apart. Ron had kissed her in the middle of the battle and told her he loved her, high on adrenaline and full of the uncertainty whether they would live to admit it hours later. She had thought she loved him, too. She had been mollified by his admission; something she hadn't expected from him at all. Mere hours after that, however, everything had changed and she had not looked like the woman he had said those three words to any longer. She had not been young anymore, the aging having taken away her beauty as well. Too easily, her mind and memory tumbled fast into that conversation from years ago again.

_Ron gently took her hand, pulling her fingertips away from his cheek. He took a very deep breath and looked at her with the typical look he had on his face when he was about to say something he knew would come across as at least harsh. Hermione's smile faltered, slowly pulling her hand back from his then –– somehow, it didn't seem like he really minded it at all. She watched his face, recognizing that one look, readying herself for what he was about to say, even if she had a good idea as to what it would concern. She hadn't been close to him since the 'incident', finding it just too weird. However, he, who had confessed his love for her in battle, always seemed to jerk away from her whenever she entered his personal space, much more than anyone else._

_"Listen, Hermione, we might need to talk. I know I said that I loved you when we broke into Hogwarts and that I wanted to be with you the rest of my life, but so much has changed since then and I just don't see, you know, how it could ever work the way we planned, now that you are like you are and… Bloody hell, Hermione, you don't even look like you anymore, and they can't seem to find anything to fix it. It is still a shock every time I see you, trying to remember that you are the same person now Harry and I were on the run with for nearly a year… You know, I still love you and all, but…" he said as if in an afterthought._

_The way they had planned? "I know full well that they've been trying unsuccessfully to fix it as you so nicely worded it. Do you truly believe I want to stay like this or that I find it any easier than you to deal with it? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm the one who looks like she's sixty now, not you." She had expected this, of course. If anything, she had even expected it sooner than a month after the battle. The way he worded it, however, made the heat rise in her cheeks. She had gotten the message, but he definitely could have worded it better. "Your meaning's very clear," she said, standing and leaving him seated alone at the table, a look between oddly satisfied yet baffled on his face._

Everyone had tried to be sympathetic without being pitying, but few had succeeded at not letting whatever they said become too pitying. For instance, Mrs. Weasley had done all she could to help her in every way possible, and she had been very grateful for it, but it had been a little too much, too. Ginny had by far been the greatest in that respect, but while she had seemed to be able to treat Hermione as she had before, it had also been disconcerting to see her still young, to see Harry and her both be young and happy and enjoying each other and the love they shared. She had been the same person as she had before, only trapped in a body older than it should have been, effectively limiting her where it shouldn't. Harry had been the one who had said only little about it while still showing her he was there for her when she needed him to. He had been the first she had discussed leaving the United Kingdom with.

_"I reckon I actually might be able to rebuild my life there, where fewer people recognize me, especially like… this. I've visited France a couple of times with my family, and I liked it. I need some time to heal and to adapt to this change, away from always being confronted with what could have been. Maybe I can get an internship with someone and get a mastery in Charms or Transfiguration, I don't know yet. Plus, I've always wanted to get better at French, and that would be a good opportunity," Hermione voiced, shaking her head as if she wasn't really certain of what she was saying while the level of thought she had poured into her decision became rather obvious as she said this, and it also hinted at her being certain about what she was going to do now, whether she already knew it herself or not._

_Harry's green eyes looked her over. Indeed, she looked much older now, and it was a huge change, but her just going away had never even crossed his mind, never been an option for Harry. He had both thought and hoped, that she would make it and that he could help her to do so if she couldn't alone. Unfortunately, though, he knew that it wasn't his decision. "If that is what you really want to do, I'll respect that. This is your decision, not mine."_

_"Thank you."_

_"Anytime," he said, hugging Hermione to him, tightly._

Harry had made her promise to keep in touch, as had Ginny, and they had definitely exchanged lots of owl mail, especially in the beginning when she lived there. As the years had passed, however, the letters had somehow gotten less. Harry and Ginny had a life together now, and last she had heard from them was in a lovely, happy owl letter from Ginny saying she had just discovered she was having a baby. Hermione could assume the couple was more than busy readying everything for their child. Secretly, a small part of Hermione didn't really mind. After all, she would never get to experience that now, no matter how much she had wanted to as a little girl. Everything had suddenly changed, and maybe it was better not to have it pushed under her nose that much either.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

 

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 4  
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The knocking was unmitigated at that to say the least, hammering between her ears even as she was asleep. As she was pulled from the vestiges of sleep, gaining consciousness, the knocking didn't stop. As she opened her eyes and regained full focus, she realized the sound was in fact nearly rhythmic. Rising from her prone position, this with the help of one hand pressed hard into the firm mattress, Hermione instinctively turned to the window in her small one-bedroom loft in Nice. She blinked at the sight of a large barn owl sitting on the window sill with a letter tied to its left leg, which it held up for her to see. Although one couldn't see much of an demeanor on an owl's face, Hermione felt that it looked rather annoyed. She became surer of this as she pushed the covers aside, then slid from the bed and walked over to the window to open it for the owl as fast as she could to relieve it from its burden and duty of delivering the furled letter. Goodness knew how long it had been sitting there already without her knowing.

As Hermione opened the window fully, to allow the bird to fly in, she fleetingly cast a look upon the old clock on her night table and concluded it was a little past seven. That was quite early, given the chances the bird had flown in from the United Kingdom. She knew several witches and wizards in France, where she had lived for the past four years, but they never sent owl mail. Most of the people she knew in Nice lived close, and thus, most of the time they visited each other and told each other what they had wanted to say in person –– not that anyone their age still had a lot of recent adventures to share, and if she were honest, Hermione had always felt in the last four years that despite the dangers she had endured with Harry and Ron, she had had too little time to appreciate the little adventures and discoveries of the world. The young Hermione Granger had wanted to travel, but it just hadn't happened since the incident.

Noticing the warmth of the summery breeze that floated into her bedroom even though it was still early, Hermione decided to keep the window open. She walked back to the bed and sat down at the end of it, calmly reaching for the owl's leg, as it had sat down on the frame, to detach the letter it was carrying and had undoubtedly been for a while, too. The string loosened nearly immediately, allowing her to take the parchment. As she did so, she noticed the distinct Hogwarts seal she remembered so well, and she swore the emblem on it was Professor McGonagall's as she laid it aside. Maybe it wasn't that strange that Minerva's emblem would be endorsed on a Hogwarts letter, though. After all, she was Hogwarts' headmistress.

She couldn't pay all that much attention, though. Opening her right hand and turning it palm up, she thought _'Accio!'_ , and as she did so, her wand flew from the wooden bedside table over into her hand just as she stood up. She thought with this weather the bird deserved some fresh water from the tap, instead of conjuring only tepid, less-refreshing magical water. "Come," she whispered to the bird when she stood in the doorway, inclining her head to the room on the other side of the doorway slightly. The bird flew up and followed her as she moved through the hallway into her living room and farther, into the French kitchen. She moved to the faucet and turned it open. The barn owl flew over to the sink and seated itself at the edge, looking at Hermione fleetingly. The look it seemed to give her now was kinder than it had been before. Hermione smiled slightly, the large bird turning away and sticking its beak under the jet of cool water, sipping from it fast. As she gave it time to lessen its great thirst, Hermione moved to open the refrigerator to see if she had something she could offer the owl for its long journey back across the water. She noticed a plate of bacon from the night before and reached for one piece, straightening herself before closing the fridge to find the poor bird had stuck its entire, feathery head under the jet of water now. This was most definitely not normal behavior for owls. She wondered again how long it must have sat on her window sill and when it had left Scotland.

The smell of the bacon, despite no longer that fresh, appeared to tickle the bird's senses, and it looked up at the source, its eyes widening marginally just at the sight of some food. Hermione briefly considered breaking it in slightly smaller pieces to make it somehow easier for the animal to eat, but it didn't seem to care much. Instead, it flew up from the sink and over Hermione's head, snatching the large piece of bacon from between her fingers before resuming its spot on the sink. Hermione quirked her eyebrow as she noticed this, closing the tap when the animal seemed more interested in food than water. It didn't really seem hurried to leave her, which was unlike most delivery owls, which flew in and immediately set off again. As she let the animal eat, she walked back to the bedroom to get the official looking letter, sinking down on the bed before breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment. The first thing she noticed was a familiar signature of the same woman the seal belonged to: Minerva McGonagall. She had definitely not expected a letter from across the ocean and most definitely not from Hogwarts, from its now headmistress, whom she hadn't even seen or heard from in over four years.

The very first time she read the letter, her thoughts were a resolute **_no_** in response to the question posed within it. However, the second time she read the letter through, she was not so certain about immediately saying **_no_** and began to rethink her hasty response. She had her life there now, in France, in Nice, even if honestly it wasn't much of a life at that. A fair few men had caught her attention over the years and a few had asked her for her companionship in more than a friendship kind of way. However, something inside her had still felt the forty years younger than she looked and hadn't managed to say yes. She didn't have her family there, the whole situation having eventually lead to Hermione deciding her mum and dad would undoubtedly be better off in Australia believing they were the Wilkinses. She didn't have pets, never having bothered to get another when Crookshanks had died. True, she had some associates, good ones, but they had never been what she had had in Harry and Ron. They didn't know of her being the same, famous Hermione Granger, having always believed her to have naturally aged when it was far from the truth.

Hermione had gotten a mastery in Charms and Transfiguration over those long four years, but that wasn't really anything to keep her there either. If anything, it was one of the reasons she should go back, given she could likely get further in her native country with those than she could in France. She was looked upon as an old intelligent woman who had had an incident in her young days which had forced her to be dependent on her family rather than have time to study and who now wanted to make up for it. It wasn't actually true, but she knew they thought it all.

There was something in the way the letter and the suggestion were worded that somehow caught her interest, though. She had honestly never planned to go back to the United Kingdom, and she wasn't certain if she felt entirely ready to do so. Then again, would she ever be? She couldn't rightly say. However, her Gryffindor courage and a rare flare of her youthful enthusiasm and love for some adventure made Hermione reply in the affirmative at last. By the end of the week, she would be back… _home_.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

 

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 5  
**

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As Hermione walked the stairs to the Headmaster's Tower, she didn't come across even anyone in the hallways, no ghost or living person. She knew that that would not be so any longer in just a little while, when all the hallways would be full of new and old Hogwarts pupils walking to and from their classes and the Great Hall to eat. The occasional one would go to the library to do their homework like she often had, but Hermione wasn't exactly foolish. There were more pupils like Ron and Harry who copied from their fellows or were satisfied with the information available in their study books without going to the effort to find more information in the library.

The Castle was much the same as she always had remembered, but as she calmly passed through the corridors to her destination, a quite uncomfortable feeling swirled fast in her stomach. The last time Hermione had passed through there, it had been in battle. She had been forced back and forth to stay alive, diving sideways, ducking from stray spells. Hermione barely managed to force the flashbacks to the back of her mind again, and unsurprisingly, she suddenly doubted her decision to return to her homeland, to Hogwarts. She hadn't told anyone of it –– not Harry, not Ron, not anyone… except Minerva in her return owl. A letter had followed in which Hogwarts' Headmistress had stated that she was delighted to hear Hermione was accepting her offer and some basic things had already been addressed, for instance the day when she would arrive, that she would get the chambers that were adjoining to the Transfiguration classroom to decorate as she wanted and have all the privileges other professors had, her pay being the same as any other beginning professor… Hermione's answer to that second letter had been quite succinct: a scribbled-down bit of text saying she agreed with the date of arrival and would be there and was more than all right with the chambers and privileges and especially the pay she would receive. She certainly wasn't going to be disgruntled about the amount of Galleons she was going to get for teaching there.

While in Paris, she had acquired some money from those private lessons in English she had been giving to a couple local children, but she had really had to touch a lot upon her savings aside from that to be able to afford her home and necessities. Mistress Prudence had allowed her the occasional few Galleons for the tasks she did for her while she studied for her mastery in Charms and Transfiguration , but those hadn't made much difference, especially given Hermione's books and other things she had needed and wanted to buy to help her with her mastery studies had been rather expensive. With the pay she was going to get for just teaching at Hogwarts, she could have paid her rent thrice over, and then taken into consideration that she would get housing and food there as well…

Hermione halted before the bronze griffin that guarded the moving, spiral staircase to the Headmaster's Tower. She realized she didn't know the password to enter. She understood that it hadn't been a possibility for Minerva to include her password in a letter, but it still left her standing there quite helplessly. However, before she could come with a solution, she heard very distinct footsteps, of boot heels clacking fast against the stone tiles, becoming louder as the woman, the witch, who wore black leather boots winter and summer neared her. She turned to see the Headmistress, managing a faint smile even if her face showed that she wasn't in a very good mood. The headmistress didn't slow down at all until she was within mere feet of the other woman. "Ms. Granger," she acknowledged. "I do apologize for not managing to come and meet you at the gates when you arrived. There was a small dustup between Peeves and Mr. Filch again which I couldn't just step away from until now."

"That's all right," Hermione replied. "I've only just arrived anyway. You haven't kept me waiting here for that long. I hope you don't mind I've sent my belongings to my future chambers already? I don't have much, but it seemed much easier."

"Of course."

In silence, she watched the headmistress wave an open hand before the griffin, the bronze statue sliding aside and revealing a long spiral staircase. She followed the headmistress and let the stone steps lead her to the Headmaster's office, where she had only been a very few times before. No word was exchanged between them as they let the stone steps take them there. What did you say to a person you hadn't seen in four years even if you had at one point been so close with them? What did you say to that person you hadn't even said goodbye to before leaving not only the publicity but the country? She hadn't written and nor had Minerva. She suspected that Minerva hadn't known the answer as to what to say to her like she hadn't either. Part of her longed to know how the headmistress had fared in that time, but a larger part suppressed her questions. She feared they wouldn't be warranted. She thought Minerva had a vague air of impenetrability about her, even if it might have to do with her frustration over having had to intervene with another Peeves' situation.

From the moment they stepped into the circular office, Minerva made a gesture to invite Hermione to sit down on the chair opposite the high-backed one that was obviously reserved for herself. As she moved to the chair, Hermione's eyes swept over the frames of deceased headmasters and headmistresses. Those who weren't unoccupied contained sleeping predecessors of the woman opposite her. She noticed that neither Professor Dumbledore nor Professor Snape was there.

"That's nothing unusual," a soft accented tone sounded, making Hermione turn to Minerva again. "During the school year, my predecessors are bound to me. As such, they technically can't come, nor go, without my permission, in case I require advice or other help. I'm sure you knew of this already, though. I remember you being one of the few pupils I ever had who actually made the effort of reading _Hogwarts: A History._ "

A small smile was shared at that moment between both women, a silence following as those disappeared. The silence was laden, and Hermione felt that the headmistress seemed to want to ask a hundred questions, just as she herself did. Neither of them spoke a word, though. She took the liberty to gaze at Minerva for just a brief second, letting her gaze wander when she confirmed Minerva wasn't currently looking at her, but at her hands clasped on her desk before her. She hadn't changed a bit in the four years they hadn't seen each other anymore. She still looked the same as when she had first met her when she had come to deliver Hermione's Hogwarts acceptance letter, come to tell her she was a witch. She noticed that the gash on her left cheek she had acquired in the Battle hadn't entirely disappeared, and she felt the irrational need to reach over and lift her face to look at it better then. It was not the sort of thing you did with someone you hadn't seen in four years, though. It wasn't the sort of thing you did with an ex-professor.

Minerva McGonagall was not wrinkle-free, but she had something about her, something that begged others to respect her. It gave her a certain glow of sorts that let any wrinkle she had disappear into utter nothingness. She had aged with grace, Hermione thought. Whenever she looked into the mirror, she could not say the same about how she herself looked lately…

Then Minerva raised her face and found her staring at her in that moment, emerald piercing hazel. "How have you been faring, Hermione? I know you've gotten your mastery in Charms and Transfiguration." Hermione blinked, rather surprised. Minerva elaborated on her answer at Hermione's reaction, even if she was careful to skip over details of 'lesser importance'. "I was hit by a bad spell after the battle from one of Lord Voldemort's remaining Death Eaters. Weakened already from earlier injuries sustained during the battle and my reflexes slowed by age, I was too late to deflect it. I had to be taken to St. Mungo's, as you may know. They kept me in an enchanted sleep to let my wounds heal because they feared I might be in too much pain otherwise. Shortly after I awoke, Molly came to visit and told me what had all happened to you. Weeks later, I received a letter from Prudence Bennett to say that she had gotten a promising older pupil under her care who reminded her a lot of me in the day, and who strangely enough had the same name of the girl who helped Harry Potter fight You-Know-Who. I merely connected the dots."

To say then that Hermione was surprised by this news was understated at all costs. "I never knew," she breathed.

"Perhaps that isn't so strange given the fact that Prudence had no idea that we knew each other, due to those events that lead you there to begin with."

Hermione nodded. The brief touch upon the subject of the incident triggered Hermione's memories in a way she couldn't put into any words, but at the same time she also understood that Minerva was deliberately tip-toeing about and not touching much upon the subject itself, for which she was incredibly grateful. This bit of new information raised so many questions with her, even if one was more dominant than the other. "How much did she…?"

"Well… not much," Minerva replied. "Of the rare few letters we still send each other, she sometimes just mentioned new findings concerning either the subject of Charms or Transfiguration and that for instance you had managed a spell faster than any other apprentice she had ever had before. However, I never questioned very much. After all, I believe you left here for a reason. It wouldn't be right to inquire about you through a third person either. Now, as you well know, the pupils here next Monday…" For the rest of the morning, business was the subject of the conversation.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	6. Chapter 6

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 6  
**

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It felt incredibly weird to be sitting there on the other end of a situation, watching as the returning pupils streamed into the Great Hall and took a seat at their House Tables, chattering amicably with others about their holidays. It had not been that long ago since she had been one of them –– five years to be correct, and now she was sitting not at Gryffindor's House Table but at the Staff Table, looking not five but forty-five years older. Some of these children, she must have known as First or Second Years once upon a time. She seemed to recognize some faces, but none of them recognized her. That was perfectly understandable, she thought. A feeling of discomfort settled in her stomach as she realized that even if they wouldn't recognize her appearance, the pupils would _definitely_ recognize her name. She had left the country to keep herself from contending with being recognized for whom she had been, and now she had thrown herself into it once more. Feelings of doubt overwhelmed her as she stared at all those students whom she would have to teach Transfiguration, aside from being the Head of House of Gryffindor. She wondered for a moment if she hadn't made the wrong decision here.

"Hermione?"

Startled, Hermione looked to her right to find the Headmistress eyeing her curiously, green eyes roving over her former pupil's face, a gleam of worry shimmering in them. "I'm sorry. I was lost in thought," she said, shaking her head slightly as she willed her doubts and negative thoughts aside for the time being.

"I noticed," Minerva replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I just remembered the day that I walked into this hall and was Sorted," Hermione said, just as they heard the tall oak doors of the Great Hall open. Both Hermione and Minerva redirected their gazes to Filius Flitwick, Deputy Headmaster, leading a group of nervous and overwhelmed First Years to the other end of the Hall, where the stool and Sorting Hat already awaited them for the Sorting Ceremony to come. Hermione noticed that the two boys drudging along at the end of the group were both soaked, and she had a very good idea of what must have happened. She remembered feeling much less enthralled than most that day, since she had read so much all about the enchantments and seen a fair few pictures in _Hogwarts: A History_ already, yet she had felt the magic swirling about her as she had stepped inside, more than she ever had that she remembered, and her nerves had been rocketing high. She had been nearly certain that she would be Sorted into Ravenclaw, a part of her worried that the Sorting Hat would state that she didn't belong at Hogwarts. When it had Sorted her into Gryffindor, she remembered feeling great relief. She had been Sorted and while she had thought it would have been Ravenclaw, she had definitely not been disappointed with Gryffindor either.

"From the day I came to deliver your acceptance letter, I knew that you would be Sorted into my House," Minerva said without averting her gaze from the Deputy Headmaster unrolling his scroll of names after just having announced the way the Sorting would work once more and began calling the first pupil forward.

"How so?" Hermione asked, fleetingly glancing over at the Headmistress before redirecting her gaze to the Sorting as well. 'Adkins, Byron' seemed to be one of the boys Hermione had noticed before and had concluded must have had their first swim in the Great Lake already. As he stepped forward to the stool, Professor Flitwick wrinkled his nose and waved his wand at the boy's clothes to dry them up immediately. The boy jumped a little at that and looked for the source of the magic when Professor Flitwick raised his brow, as if to say they didn't have all night for this. In response, the young brown-haired boy hurried forward to sit on the stool. Within seconds of the Sorting Hat sliding onto his head, it announced 'Hufflepuff!'.

"When I came to deliver your letter, I remember you being relieved that there was a reason for all the impossible things that had already happened in your childhood. I remember you listening attentively and bombarding me with questions, excited at the prospect of going to a school where you could meet others like you and where you could belong while you told me in a small voice you had always felt different to your classmates," Minerva reminisced in a soft tone only Hermione could hear without ever averting her eyes from the Sorting Ceremony, watching new witches and wizards move forward and be Sorted into their correct House. "There was no fear like often with Muggle-Born witches and wizards. There was a determination in your eyes that I had never seen before when delivering Hogwarts letters."

Hermione was amazed at the level of detail in Professor McGonagall's memories. She remembered that day very well herself, but it had been a one-in-a-lifetime experience for her, while she knew that Minerva must have delivered many Hogwarts letters with Muggle-Born witches and wizards in her time as a Deputy Headmistress. The admission from the now-Headmistress left her quiet for a minute, but her curiosity took the better of her in the end. "Do you remember every Muggle-Born witch or wizard like that?" she wondered, seeing a small smile pass over Minerva's features from the corner of her eyes, head shaking nearly imperceptibly.

"No," Minerva admitted. "I have a good reason not to forget you, Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley given the amount of trouble you always seemed to roll into so easily, no? I had my fair share of trouble with the Weasley twins, but that was often easily solved. Your kind of trouble, however, I hadn't experienced since James Potter and Sirius Black."

Hermione smiled as she remembered the one time when Professor McGonagall had looked at them aggravated and asked them why it was always the three of them. She smiled a bit wider as she remembered Ron's reply, telling her that he had been asking himself that same question for the last six years as well. The memory of Ron caused her smile to disappear. No one knew that she was back, and she wondered if she should have informed anyone, like Ron or Harry, before they had to read it in the Daily Prophet or elsewhere. She wasn't doing well, and the longer she sat there, the more she realized that having come back there, accepting to teach, had been a wrong decision.

She felt a warm hand on her wrist and looked to the side, seeing the headmistress watch her carefully, instead of just looking at her from the corner of her eyes. "Come by my office tonight and have a game of chess with me over a bottle of Firewhiskey," she suggested, taking back her hand.

Hermione realized the touch had only been intended to draw her attention to Minerva, nothing more. She remembered Harry telling her often that Dumbledore gave him the feeling he was seeing right through him, and it was the exact same thing she felt when McGonagall was looking at her right then, her eyes seeming to penetrate her soul. She had always had the power to do this to Hermione, but it had been over five years since she had been on the receiving end of that gaze, and she unconsciously held her breath. Unable to say much more, she just nodded in response to the questioning look Minerva held.

"Excellent," Minerva breathed before turning away again and rising to her feet to speak to both old and new pupils, welcoming them to another year at Hogwarts ahead.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 7  
**

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She didn't have the chance to knock on the door before it flew open for her and she was met with Minerva just setting down the chess board in the middle of her desk. A tall bottle of Firewhiskey and two tumblers already stood waiting. As she stepped into the circular office, the door fell shut after her. As Minerva moved to sit down in her high-backed chair again, she offered Hermione the chair opposite with a gesture of her hand. Striding over very slowly, Hermione sat down as with a wave of her wand, Minerva opened the bottle and poured a generous shot into each tumbler, one flying over to Hermione. The headmistress caught her tumbler as the bottle neatly corked itself again, moving to its original position on the desk.

"How did you know I played chess?" Hermione asked, as it was something she had truly been wondering about since earlier that evening. She had never liked playing chess before, even when Harry and Ron had enjoyed themselves some Wizard's chess in the Common Room often when they were free or actually busy but too lazy to do any school work. She briefly wondered if maybe Prudence Bennett had mentioned it in a letter to Minerva or something.

"I didn't. It was merely a well-educated guess," she replied as she waved her hand at Hermione for her to begin. She watched on as Hermione pushed her pawn forward and she herself did the same.

Entire silence ruled as they moved chess pieces and the game continued. Moves came more slowly as more thought was needed, more strategy. Having now looked at the board without making a move for the last ten minutes, Minerva reached for her tumbler but found it drained. A wave of her wand easily lifted the bottle of Firewhiskey in the air again, uncorked it and made it rise first to Hermione's tumbler, refilling hers before refilling her own. She took a generous gulp before sitting back in her chair and looking at Hermione over the golden rim, studying her. The younger witch was not looking at her at first, but after a couple of seconds she seemed to sense the Minerva's eyes upon her and lifted her gaze. They remained perfectly quiet.

Hermione's eyes passed slowly over the headmistress' face. There was no shame about it as she did this. Usually, she would have been nervous to be caught gazing that way at someone, but somehow in that moment there was something between them, an electricity that had jolted through and between them as their gazes met. This seemed to reassure Hermione, allowing her to continue to do so. There was something about Minerva McGonagall that was somehow still so beautiful and masked any signs of old age visible on her. There was a great elegance in her posture, a depth, albeit impenetrable, in those emerald eyes, which took Hermione's breath away in that moment. Had she forgotten what it used to be like to be looked at from so very close and be on the receiving end of that always steady glare?

She cast her gaze down as she realized with a pang that Minerva had gotten the chance to age beautifully, to get used to the slight changes from who she had been to who she was now. A part of Hermione still hoped and expected to see her old face in the mirror, even if in four years she knew what she must look like after the incident was there to stay. Minerva hadn't changed much in those four years, and neither had she, but it was the thought that Minerva had slowly aged while she hadn't, had had the time to enjoy her youth while she hadn't. There were so many things she had missed and never would get back. She had never made love to someone, not even a one-night-tumble. There had been multiple older men and one or two older women who had made their advances to her, but it had just been… too weird. She was stuck in a body forty years older than it should have been, but her mind and thoughts were still that of a woman in her twenties, as were her sexual and other attractions. She had never gotten married, had children. She had never travelled without the thought of Death Eaters behind them who weren't afraid to kill her if necessary. She gasped as tears formed in her eyes as all these thoughts rushed through her head. Being back here was only making it worse. Being at Hogwarts was only making it worse, and it seemed to pull at the defenses she had built in the past four years, to deal. Maybe she hadn't dealt, though. That thought crossed her mind, too.

With a trembling hand, she set her tumbler down and moved to rise to her feet and leave. She couldn't be here. She couldn't, confronted with what she could have been as an older woman, with experience. However, a touch upon her hand stopped her. Unlike earlier that day during dinner, Minerva's grip didn't immediately release. Similar to earlier, though, it caused Hermione to look at her and for Minerva to look back into eyes full of unshed tears.

"I know you are having a hard time, Hermione," Minerva McGonagall whispered gently. "I'm not a prying sort of person nor hope to change that, but I would like for you to know that you can talk to me about whatever you're feeling. I can imagine that it must be quite the ordeal to be forced into a body forty years older in one day and with that into the life of a sixty-five-year-old who's supposed to have all sorts of life experiences you've never had a real chance to obtain."

Whereas Hermione knew that the comment was said with good intention, not in the least shown in how the older woman had used her first name, she couldn't help but feel offended. Pulling her hand immediately back from underneath the headmistress' harshly, she spoke, "Forgive me, Professor, but unless I'm mistaken, you've no idea of how this truly feels like, no matter how much empathy you can muster. The longer I'm here, the more I feel that this was a huge mistake."

Minerva's gaze pierced Hermione's then; a silence fell between the two women. Her voice was soft when she spoke next. "You are of course entirely correct in saying I have no idea what it feels like being old yet not. Still, I don't believe you've made a mistake coming back here at all. I asked you here only after having thought through the consequences not only for Hogwarts and having the position filled once more but for you as well, and if I had thought for even one second that it wouldn't be a good idea, I never would have asked you to come back."

Hermione cast her gaze down. "I know. I apologize."

In that moment, Minerva saw the twenty-three-year-old shine through the aged appearance clearly. "Don't," she whispered. "I just… want you, need you, to know that you don't have to keep all your worries and thoughts to yourself. There was a time when at Hogwarts, you came to me with all that you couldn't manage yourself, and I was happy to listen and help, and that has not changed."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut at that. She had come to her so often for things –– true. She had trusted her and her advice always. Should she be trusting her on this, too? "I… Can we just continue playing now, please?" she changed the subject, realizing it wouldn't be polite to go now.

Minerva immediately made the next move with a wave of her wand. "Check mate."

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 8  
**

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Hermione Granger was nervous. She was pacing back and forth in her classroom, twenty minutes before first period was to begin and with that her very first class as a teacher at Hogwarts. She had foregone eating in the Great Hall for a multitude of reasons. First off, she had been so nervous that she had woken at a little past four in the morning. She had hopelessly tried for two hours to fall back asleep, tossing and turning, but had not really been all that successful, and in the end, she had just crawled from bed and gotten dressed, running through her lecture notes once more. She just wanted to do well at this… The thought of having something to eat had made her feel incredibly nauseous, and then there was last night's conversation with Minerva over chess, which had definitely made a contribution to her getting very little sleep.

Minerva's words and her own thoughts had continued to race in her head until a long while after the bottle of Firewhiskey and game had both been finished. Minerva and she had talked about matters of little significance, after Hermione had suggested getting back to the game, after their personal interlude. Breakthroughs in Transfiguration and the subject of Transfiguration in general had made a part of their conversation, a large part, and whenever it had strayed a little too far, either one had always quite carefully steered back to remain oddly… impersonal. When she had been in Minerva's office, merely talking about aspects of Transfiguration, she had felt relaxed and oddly comfortable, for the first time ever since she had set foot on native soil again.

Strangely enough, even though she knew the alcohol must have contributed, she knew somewhere deep down that that had only had a very small role, the person she was with a far bigger one. She couldn't word it, but it was uncanny what an effect Minerva McGonagall had always had on her and how her calm posture had always been calming for her as well, ever since she had been a little girl. Half a decade had passed in which they had not seen each other, Hermione's 'incident' having diminished her relationship with basically everyone that she had known. She knew that her camaraderie with Ron, Harry and the others had changed a great deal from the moment the spell hit her, and how could it not have? The others still looked like they always had, according to their original and true age, and didn't need to worry at all about acting the age they looked, forty years older, but could just continue doing the things they wanted. It wasn't entirely from their side alone, though. Hermione, too, had felt different with them since then…

Before, at last, falling asleep, Hermione had remembered all those times where only Minerva McGonagall had managed to calm her down, like when she had felt like she didn't belong at Hogwarts in her first year, when her Boggart had appeared to be Professor McGonagall giving her work an F… There had been many instances where Professor McGonagall had been all a mother would have been. There had been a dynamic between them Hermione hadn't felt with any of her family or companions, though. There had been an admiration that she still had and had been confronted with once more upon returning. She had truly admired Professor McGonagall from the first day she had seen her when she came to deliver her Hogwarts letter. There was something very unique about her she couldn't really put her finger on, which had still lead to Hermione's biggest fear to fail not in her family's eyes but Minerva's. There was something in Minerva's regal features that hinted at an austere beauty, and there was something so obviously magical about her even when in Muggle attire. In the middle of all those thoughts and what it could mean for her in the past and in the now, she had somehow fallen asleep for a few hours only.

Hermione looked up as she heard the sound of nearing footsteps as the pupils began to filter from the Great Hall into the corridors and move to their respective classes. Her heart definitely hammered in her throat as she waited, barely managing to stop herself from pacing. Minerva had only said yesterday night that she had nothing to fear, because she had known she would be a good teacher, but as it was with everything new, she was nervous and not so very sure about herself yet. She had always been the carefully guarded and cautious one, and that had not changed.

Within minutes, sixth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors entered, chattering loudly as they took their seats in the classroom in little groups of two and threes, filling up the chairs and the desks. Two Ravenclaw girls took the last two seats in the second row, and as Hermione let her eyes go over the classroom and concluded that everyone must be there, given the chairs were all occupied, she waved her wand to close the door and again to make her name appear on the blackboard in white chalk. She opened her mouth to wish them all good morning and introduce herself shortly, followed by an overview of the Transfiguration they would learn that year when a Gryffindor boy in the fourth row stuck up his hand. "A question?" she asked, swallowing what she had initially intended to say.

"I do," he replied. "Are you really the same Hermione Granger as the one who was on the run with Harry Potter?"

She had known these questions would come sooner rather than later. She had told herself she would answer them all as honestly as possible and then get on with the curriculum, because she knew how stubborn young people could be and how easily lies and exaggerations could be made when one didn't disclose the truth at first. Inhaling deeply, Hermione replied, "I'm the same Hermione Granger."

"What's happened to you to make you look so old now? Was there an accident, with a Time-Turner?" wondered the boy's left-side neighbor, a small Gryffindor girl with sleek blonde hair in a ponytail.

"I did not have an accident with a Time-Turner," she said, frowning as to how the girl had even known about Time-Turners etc. Also, she couldn't help feeling the girl's words sting. She knew she was no longer still young and okay-looking, for Hermione had never truly considered herself beautiful, but it was something else entirely to hear from someone who had known her before the incident, even if only from maybe a picture in the Daily Prophet or such. "An unknown spell hit me, in the battle here at Hogwarts, which aged me about four decades physically. There's no knowledge on exactly what happened and therefore, I've not been able to get the spell reversed. You'll have to accept me like this, I'm afraid. Now unless there are other questions with slightly more relevance to the matter at hand, I'll get going by giving you an overview of this year's curriculum," she called over the uproar of talking that ensued halfway through her answer. She had spoken with a confidence she didn't truly feel, but at least it stopped them from talking, which was what she had tried to achieve.

She couldn't help but feel the harsh sting of her own words deeper than the girl's had upon saying it aloud and admitting that until that day no one had any idea at all about what she had been hit with and as such no clue on how to reverse it. She wanted to go back to her life as she had known and pick up her life once more, from when it had gotten altered so drastically, but she held no hope for it.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 9  
**

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Hermione actually felt hungry this morning, quite unlike she had the day before, she realized. As she calmly reached for a crescent and the butter, she let her eyes pass over the House Tables and recognized a few faces from pupils she had taught the day before. She had been worried about the questions they were going to ask, but they had mostly remained innocent or at least civil. She thought maybe it was all a little normal as well, given what had happened was something she herself hadn't understood either, nor had Madam Pomfrey or other Healers. Accidental magic like that shouldn't even have been possible under any circumstances, after all. The questions had been still less intrusive than she had expected. The pupils had wanted some answers, but overall they had not pushed the subject when she made it clear that she had wanted to get on with the lesson. She guessed her older appearance made her scarier and more respect-inducing, and she wasn't sure she minded that. It allowed for her to teach without interruptions, and near the end of the first lesson see some successful Transfigurations she had made the pupils repeat from the previous year, correcting some and praising others.

At the end of the day, when eating her dinner in the Great Hall, she had felt more positive about teaching already and had actually thought she might be good enough to be a teacher and help others learn new things. For a moment she had thought she knew how Harry must have felt leading Dumbledore's Army, and the pride he must have felt upon seeing someone do a spell or charm perfectly with just a little help, if only helping to pronounce the incantation right or guide their hands in a more flowing manner. However, this upturn in her feelings would not last for long…

She reached for her tumbler of orange juice just as the flock of owls that announced the morning news came sweeping in, delivering the usual packages of forgotten things at home that hadn't made it yet the day before. Hermione guessed it would always be like that: the first week at Hogwarts had a typically heavy flock of morning post. Hermione sat back as a few of those owls extracted themselves from the flock and flew over the staff table. A small spotted owl descended at the edge of the table before Hermione. She fished for a second in her robe pocket for money to put in the leather baggy to pay the delivery owl and give it the last piece of her crescent, which it swallowed in one gulp, before moving to extract the morning edition of the Daily Prophet from its leg. Pushing back from the table, the owl took off once more, just as Hermione unfolded the newspaper, pushing her plate a bit farther away to spread it on the table. She felt her heart stop as she read the headline: **_"AGED BRAIN OF THE GOLDEN TRIO BACK!"_**

Minerva must have somehow felt the younger witch stiffen right beside her, for she stopped her conversation with Filius and turned to Hermione immediately, letting her gaze fall upon the newspaper as well. She read the first few lines, but those were more than enough. She didn't need to read more of Rita Skeeter's enchantingly nasty wordings. She had a way of wording the most innocent of things in such way that seemed intended to hurt the most. "Herm–?"

However, Hermione had already pushed back from the table, leaving the newspaper as she left the Great Hall, moving to her chambers as fast as she could, the lack of pupils in the hallways making her exit easier. Why couldn't anything be easy in her life? Harry and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys would read this as well, and they would surely send her some letters by the end of the day as well, asking her why she hadn't told anyone that she was coming back and demanding answers she wasn't sure she could give. Thing was, Hermione had been terribly unhappy in France, and she knew that had really had a great deal to do with her decision to come back and try something else, hoping that teaching others would make her life feel worthwhile again, and it had come close for only a few hours… As always, she had no clue how Rita Skeeter had even known of this, but she couldn't really bother to worry about that right now. She would have to teach again second period and act like nothing was amiss, while deep inside her emotions would be hurling at the thought of impending letters from Harry and Ron and others. Her life in France had not been a happy one, but she hadn't had to worry about such things there at least. She was regretting her return more every second, it seemed.

"Going back won't solve anything no matter how much you wish you could go back right now. It will make dealing harder when it comes to it again."

Turning, Hermione was surprised to see the portrait in her chambers which was otherwise always abandoned now containing a woman with long ebony hair and dark eyes against a pale skin, dressed in midnight blue robes and wearing an incredibly familiar diadem. She was beautiful but came across as intimidating even in her not-so-very-large frame. It seemed just too unbelievable for it to be the woman she thought it was. "Rowena?" she questioned. "How–?"

The woman nodded very slowly. "One hears things in the office of the headmistress of Hogwarts; and word travels fast –– sometimes even faster through portrait or ghost as it does through people alive, I believe." She continued speaking as if she was pressed on time, and maybe she was, because Hermione seemed to remember Minerva saying the portraits were bound to her and could thus technically come and go only on her orders. "I'm here to remind you of what you know. You're a Gryffindor for very obvious reasons, but I would also like to remind you that you have the intelligence and knowledge typical for pupils of my House and need to remember that you can't run away from the truth forever."

Hermione frowned slightly at her way of wording things. "I know," she said. "I just wonder why things can never just… be easy in life. The incident has had difficulties at every turn I dare to take…" she whispered before closing her eyes and hiding her face in her hands. She knew all this, but she just didn't know how to deal with it. She felt like a failure for not being able to do so, felt unlike herself. Hermione had always known the answers to any academic challenge, but this was the sort of issue that no library book would help her with. She had thought that going to France was the best decision to give her time and space in the aftermath of the battle, but there was truth in what Rowena was saying, too. Maybe it hadn't been a mistake to come back but to leave to begin with. Had she stayed she likely wouldn't have had her mastery in Transfiguration or Charms, but she might have learned to cope by this time and deal with Harry and Ron and…

She knew going back was no option, but she knew she couldn't do all this alone either. She was sure that had she stayed after the battle, she would have had to deal with news in the Daily Prophet as well and people pointing at her. However, even if Ron's support would have been dubious, she knew Harry and Ginny would have been right there to help her get through this. Would they still be there to help her now? How would she get her life back on track? She wasn't the sort of person who often wept, but it became quite clear to her that she couldn't manage alone.

When she opened her eyes to ask Rowena's advice, she was gone. Maybe she didn't need to really ask. _I'm here to remind you of what you know…_

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As always, reviews are quite welcome. A lot of people who began reading don't seem to be interested any longer. :(


	10. Chapter 10

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 10  
**

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"Professor McGonagall," Hermione greeted, surprised to see the headmistress at her door late that Tuesday night. Part of her maybe should have expected for this to happen, though. Minerva had been kind enough not to make mention of the article in the Daily Prophet during luncheon, nor during dinner that evening. A part of her had felt that Minerva would not let go of it, though –– definitely not to force her into anything, but she would want to talk and offer a compassionate ear. Hermione just wasn't sure if she would have been able to hold off given the state of mind Rita Skeeter's article had certainly left her in.

The intensity of Minerva McGonagall and the dynamic between the two of them, the feeling of acceptance she felt with her even after so many years had scared her, made her fear that from the moment the older woman looked at her with those emerald green eyes and ensured her once again that it was okay to talk about it, that she would break down and just spill all the worries she had had over the last four years. As such, she had left the table very quickly, before Minerva had had the chance to invite her for another game of chess. This would have forced her to say she would rather not, and she doubted she could have said no to Minerva, though, because it would have seemed incredibly impolite for her to do so.

She had successfully made it through teaching for the day, even if it had been hard to try and ignore the stares of the pupils as she passed through the hallways and stood before the class. There had been the occasional question, but she had deflected them with short answers, ignoring the ones she thought were of no relevance before continuing the lessons. It was her job to teach and so she had done her job, but once she was done for the day, lessons prepared for the rest of the week, her thoughts had begun running away with her again. Words of the article were being repeated inside her head, same with all those worries and thoughts she had had over the course of those four years in France. During her first few years in Paris and for the last one and a half in Nice, Hermione Granger had often been overwhelmed with insecurities. She wasn't sure how very successful she would be at fending off Minerva –– she would not be fooled nor pushed aside as easily as the several letters in familiar handwriting that had awaited Hermione upon her return to her rooms, which she had left as yet unopened.

"Minerva," she corrected.

"Minerva," Hermione repeated. "How… may I help you?" she asked, not wanting to be impolite nor wanting to really invite her in if she didn't have to either As much as a part of her wanted to scream and wanted to do so with Minerva, to just share all her thoughts and worries with someone she knew wouldn't judge her, the dominant feeling swirling inside her was one of not wanting to be vulnerable and just wanting to go back to her book and glass of scotch, even if she often caught herself rereading the same sentences without realizing it until she was already halfway.

"Do you mind if I came in? I would rather not talk this over in the doorframe, but I promise I won't keep you longer than necessary."

Reluctantly, Hermione stepped aside to let Minerva into her chambers, closing the door behind her, leaning her forehead against the wood for a handful of seconds while silently just trying to gather herself. She knew what this was going to be about, and she would try to answer as succinctly as possible and try and get Minerva from her rooms as quickly as possible. How did you justify breaking down with someone you hadn't seen or heard from in four years nor even really spoken to in five? She was feeling like those years hadn't really passed, but was that feeling a justification to break down with her? She had no idea how Minerva felt about seeing her back at Hogwarts. She had no idea if she too felt like it had been just yesterday when they had had a talk about career choices in private over tea, or if she felt a distance from the five years between them. Nonetheless, how could one act like nothing had happened in five years after only having been back a handful of days?

By the time she turned to the headmistress, she found Minerva had already sat down on the couch in the middle of the room. Hermione had sat so often on that couch with Minerva when the rooms had still belonged to her as a Transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress and when Hermione herself had still been a pupil. The roles were reversed, yet not. Hermione walked over to the other couch and sat down, looking at Minerva. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

Emerald clashed with hazel as Minerva looked straight into her eyes. "I know you are having a hard time being back here, and I'm certain Rita Skeeter's exaggerated and sensationalized article from this morning hasn't helped you at all. The amount of unopened owl post on your desk is merely an indication, as was your hasty exit from the Great Hall this evening before anyone else." It seemed nothing more than an observation, a statement. It wasn't a question or an accusation or a demand of any kind. Quite obviously, though, Minerva seemed to want to elicit a reaction. Briefly, she considered asking her if there was anything more, but part of her felt that that was not necessary.

She felt as if Minerva had spoken directly to that lost and lonely part of her, though, because instead of challenging her, Hermione couldn't stop it any longer anymore. Tears sprang to her eyes, even as she tried to hold them back, barely managing. "Isn't it bad enough to be in a body I barely recognize and to have to live with all that I've missed without people taking aim at me from all sides and making me more insecure and broken than I already am? I really don't know if I can do this, Minerva. It's so hard. I wasn't happy in France either, but here I'm bare managing to keep myself together. I fail to see things get better and begin to wish more and more each day that I had just stayed there."

For the longest time, neither woman even spoke. "You are stronger than you believe you are, Hermione," Minerva said. "You are a Gryffindor for a reason, and I know that the situation is very challenging, but I want to remind you of the fact that some things have to get worse before they get slowly better, and I believe that this is one such time. The most difficult of things often lead to reaping the most worthy of rewards."

Hermione sighed. "You sound a lot like Rowena," she muttered under her breath, comparing the mysterious wordings, even knowing that those had always meant a great deal more to her than any advice that was given to her on a silver platter. It was quite strange, especially that they both knew this.

Minerva chose not to ask further about the how and when of Rowena. "The Sorting Hat doubted for a long while on whether to put me in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, like it did with you."

Hermione in her turn didn't ask further on how she knew about the Sorting Hat doubting during her Sorting. "What was the deciding factor?"

Minerva smirked. "My infamous Scottish temper."

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	11. Chapter 11

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 11  
**

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Hugging was slightly awkward, given the bulge between them where Ginny and Harry's baby was growing. It felt good to finally hug her best companion again, Hermione thought. In that one moment, despite the awkwardness of the hug, it felt as if nothing had changed. Eventually letting go of Ginny, she moved immediately on to Harry, grabbing him, holding onto him tighter than she had before, maybe with the exception of when she had hugged him before the first task in the Triwizard Tournament, when she had been terrified that the Hungarian Horntail would kill him in an instant. Once Hermione had greeted both her old fellows with a hug, she sat down on a chair opposite them both. Ginny sat a fair distance from the table to give her growing belly room right opposite her, Harry beside her.

"Ron was being too much of an arse to come," Ginny announced. "I'm so glad to see you, though. I've missed you, so much."

In that moment, Hermione realized how much she had missed them as well, even maybe Ron's usual temper. "I've missed you, too," she said, and as she did, she knew she meant it. She had missed them a lot, had just missed having someone there she knew she could tell anything to without being judged, which was exactly the sort of companion both Ginny and Harry had been to her before the incident and before she had felt the overwhelming need to get away from the United Kingdom to heal. Again, she was confronted with doubts about whether she should have left…

True, it had been particularly tough at first to be confronted with the curiosity from pupils, the article in the Daily Prophet and just being back at all, in general. Over the course of about a month, though, the curiosity and the publicity had dropped nearly to nothing, and everyone seemed to let her be after the initial uproar about her return, which was good for Hermione Granger. Her appearance hadn't changed, nor did she feel like she could accept it more than she had four years before or at any point in between. However, she seemed somehow more able to accept the life that came with it better, and she had to agree that the reasons why were of a nature that she never could have found in France.

After her conversation with Minerva the night of the second school day, the day when Rita Skeeter's horrible article had appeared in the Daily Prophet, she had found the guts to just open the letters that had been sent to her from her former fellows at Hogwarts, asking since when she had been back and what had made her come back at all… and wondering why she hadn't said anything. She had responded that it had been sort of last minute, which was true, and that she honestly hadn't known how to say it, which was also very true. Luna's letter had been thoughtful, Mrs. Weasley's motherly, but Hermione had been incredibly overwhelmed by Neville, whose letter had been nothing but kind, and most especially by Harry and Ginny's, which had truly affected her most. Both had been quite accepting of her situation and her thoughts, saying they understood but that she had nothing to fear about not belonging in their lives any longer. That one sentence had made the difference, and, from there, the friendship and the letters had easily picked up again, as if nothing had happened. A few days later even a letter of Ron had followed –– Hermione surmised under gentle pressure of his sister and Harry. He had said that he was glad to know Hermione was back. His letter had been of the shorter type indeed, but it had meant a great deal to her nonetheless.

What had helped her to settle into the life of a sixty-five-year-old the most, though, were the tough chess matches with Minerva on Tuesdays and Fridays. On Fridays, they shared a bottle of Firewhiskey, sometimes two. Minerva had helped her a great deal in her own way, even by just treating her no differently than she had. Then again, she had basically always talked to her as if she had been an adult, and that hadn't changed. Hermione appreciated that the headmistress didn't seem to look at her differently or treat her differently as opposed to her colleagues. The conversations over the chess matches had never wandered far from the educational and the professional, but there was always an air of relaxation and amicability between them that Hermione immensely enjoyed –– an air of equality.

The same air still existed between her and Ginny and Harry, and she was certain that that made the difference with her acquaintances in France, first in Paris, then in Nice, who had not known of her past, whom she had never shared the good and the bad times with and somehow couldn't either. She had felt that she could never truly be herself with them, which undoubtedly was a justified feeling, given the situation.

She was saddened when the two realized the time and announced that they had to go to make it on time for dinner with the Weasleys, ensuring her that she had to come for dinner at Christmas time, because everyone else would be so happy to see her back after that long. She had agreed that it would be nice, just like in their good old days.

As they stood to leave and Hermione remained seated, Ginny and Harry shared a glance between them that didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. Just as Hermione opened her mouth to ask what was going on, Ginny turned to her with a smile on her face. "You know, Hermione, there's something that Harry and I have been discussing ever since you got back in the country again, and we've agreed that there's something we would like to ask you, and that is… Would you please consider being the godmother of this baby?" she asked, gently patting her growing tummy with one hand.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a fish's above water, taken aback by the sudden question. They had been in close contact again for about a month, but they hadn't seen each other for over four years before that. It meant a great deal to her that they had thought about her as the baby's godmother, because it meant that they truly hadn't forgotten about her and that she really still fit in their lives, but she couldn't help being very surprised. "I… Of course!" There was no other answer.

"Perfect."

Wide smiles graced all three Gryffindors' faces as they hugged each other goodbye and promised to stay in touch, to maybe meet each other in Hogsmeade again soon. It was like times had never changed, even if they all knew they had. "It was great that you could meet me over here," Hermione whispered to them both. "It really does mean a great deal to me."

Hermione's smile disappeared as soon as the two were lost in the crowd to leave the packed pub. As she turned on her heel slowly, considering to leave herself, her eyes fell upon Minerva and Filius seated at a table really not that far from where she had been sitting with Harry and Ginny. As she wanted to tear her gaze away from them and go back to Hogwarts, Minerva's emerald gaze somehow fell upon her as well. She inclined her head slightly, which served as an unspoken invitation, for Hermione to come sit with them if she liked. Hermione considered the offer for a second, then made her way to her colleagues, pushing through the crowd of many other witches and wizards, most of which were actually Hogwarts pupils. How many times during her school years there had she come to have a bottle of Butterbeer with House mates, or others?

As she finally reached Minerva and Filius' table, she felt the smile creeping back up her face, naturally.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	12. Chapter 12

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 12   
**

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As Hermione moved to sit down beside Filius, the tiny Charms professor wriggled off of his chair and offered it to his former pupil, now colleague, with a hand gesture and a smile. "I still have to go and get my order at Scrivenshaft's. They said my new quills might be ready this weekend, so I better go and see if they are," he said. "The weather looks ominous, and I would like to be back at the castle before the downpour, hopefully with my new quills. Good day." With a small nod to both Minerva and Hermione, the tiny professor said goodbye before turning and immediately getting lost in the crowd.

Hermione followed Minerva's gaze to the window as it did. "It does look like it is really going to rain soon, but I still can't help but feel that Filius seemed to be keen on leaving when I joined you."

Minerva's emerald gaze met the other woman's hazel one as they both turned their attention away from the window and the impending weather change. "I agree," she said. "I know for a fact that he did order those new quills, though. I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with you," she added upon seeing the question in Hermione's eyes, adding a small smile that Hermione did not return, making her own disappear in seconds as well. She had noticed her talking with Harry and Ginevra and wanted to know how Hermione felt about seeing them again, but she didn't know if it was her right to do so. In any case it may not be the right place, filled with witches and wizards who Hermione undoubtedly wouldn't feel all that comfortable about, even if the yelling and shouting from the few custom drunkards and the general uproar from everyone else would make it very hard to hear anyone who wasn't sitting or standing very close. She was quite sure that Filius had noticed the look of defeat in Hermione's eyes as well and that that was the reason for his sudden departure, possibly feeling that Minerva alone would be able to talk to her and help her better than she could have had with him sitting there. It seemed that she didn't have to ask anything, though, because Hermione's behavior said everything basically, especially as she cast her gaze away from Minerva and seemed to stare into thin air, looking at the people at the bar yet not.

"They asked me to be the godmother of their first baby," Hermione whispered just loud enough for only Minerva to hear it.

"What did you tell them?"

"I accepted," Hermione replied, letting her gaze wander over the groups of laughing young witches and wizards in the pub. Many were showing off their purchases from Zonko's and Honeydukes, the two most popular shops according to Hogwarts pupils in Hogsmeade. During her school days, Hermione had visited Tomes and Scrolls a fair few times, too, even if she hadn't liked the general randomness of how the books were shelved. She wondered how long it had been since she had truly laughed with joy like those pupils at the table a little further over. It might have been half a decade. Teaching was manageable now, but here, somehow the youth she had lost and visions of the future of others her age, like Harry and Ginny having a baby, was very… confronting. It was not a nice feeling. She felt trapped like she had upon returning, when the article and the questions had come. This was too much public exposure, too soon after she had only just settled in at Hogwarts and her new position.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Hermione said, barely managing those these three words in between gasps for air. She had stood to leave without properly realizing she had done so as a defense mechanism to get away from the confrontation she wasn't really ready for yet. "I really have to go back to the castle –– I have some homework to correct, and I would rather be back before the downpour as well. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

"Hermione, wait!" However, the other woman had turned and begun to make her way through the crowd to leave already. Minerva was not an intrusive sort of person and gave people their space when they needed it, the last she wanted forcing her presence on someone else no matter the situation. However, there had been a look in Hermione's eyes that somehow made Minerva act against her usual manners. Her instincts told her to follow, so that's what she did. Taking a breath and closing her eyes, she willed herself into her cat form.

Darting through the legs of the others in the pub with an agility she only possessed in her Animagus shape, the headmistress found her way to the exit, taking advantage of new customers just coming in to slip through the crack in the door –– it saved her the trouble of having to return to her human shape to open the door and then turn back. She was a lot faster in her cat shape, even if she was smaller that way. She cursed as a few raindrops began to fall, intensifying into the predicted downpour. She mewled as the rain hit her, unable to cast a spell that would protect her from the rain in her Animagus form.

Noticing Hermione already halfway up the lawn back to the castle, Minerva ran faster. Minerva guessed that she had Apparated from the Three Broomsticks to the Hogwarts gates, beyond which Apparating was no longer possible for anyone. Given she was the headmistress, she was, however, able to Apparate anywhere she pleased within Hogwarts, but given she didn't know for certain where Hermione was going… and she needed the time it would take to reach Hermione to consider what she was doing, too. As she ran, a myriad of thoughts were running through her head.

She finally managed to catch up with Hermione in the corridor of the Transfiguration classroom and her personal chambers. As she did, she leapt and her form grew and elongated to that of her human self. "Hermione," she breathed, causing the other woman to turn and fall back against the wall, looking straight into Minerva McGonagall's emerald eyes full of worry –– worry about her.

There was something in her gaze that took Hermione's breath away again. As her own breath stilled in her throat, she seemed to notice the same reaction in Minerva as well. She felt it more than anything else. "Minerva…" Hermione whispered back, a gasp leaving her mouth as she felt Minerva take a step closer to her so their bodies touched; then Hermione's hand was on her hip. The intensity of it all made her close her eyes, and seconds after, she felt the touch of hot wet lips upon hers, capturing them in a kiss and claiming them as hers.

It was not her first kiss, but she had never before kissed someone and felt what she felt when Minerva's lips touched hers. She opened herself willing to the overload of sensations as they washed through her. She felt as if she needed to give in, to just for a second get lost in something so beautiful, in _someone_ so beautiful.

As air became a necessity and they parted, their eyes opening to each other and what had just happened between them, shock overtook the electrical sensation and replaced it. "Oh Merlin." With that, Hermione pulled away, looking into Minerva's eyes a second longer than necessary before slipping between Minerva's body and the wall just as the headmistress took a step back. She didn't look back as she hurried to her room to hide from the consequences of what she had let happen, which were bound to come after her sooner rather than later, leaving Minerva standing alone in the corridor.

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	13. Chapter 13

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 13   
**

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Minerva turned back from the window and looked straight into the eyes of her predecessor and best companion, Albus Dumbledore. He was captured in a frame and painted in oils, but there was no one else she ever would have wanted to talk to about these kinds of things. "I'm not sure what happened, Albus," she said after a rather long silence that had followed upon Minerva entering her office rather upset, Albus' question what had happened and her responding that Hermione and she had shared a kiss.

"Minerva. You are not the sort of person who gives in to lust alone – there's more."

The look in his blue eyes showed such honest concern and her need to talk to someone about what had happened no matter how stoic a person she was and how often she kept things inside eventually lead to her sitting down on the edge of her desk and telling him how she felt after long minutes of having paced back and forth and deciding she couldn't find answers to the questions in her own mind alone. "Of course there's more. She's always been a promising witch, that I knew from the first time I saw her when she was just a child. When she got here and just seemed to be able to do anything she put her strong mind to, we seemed to be on the same level with so many things. It shows even in conversations where we barely skirted the edges of professionalism. Her intelligence is astounding, especially for someone her age. I can have long conversations with her for hours, about matters which many wouldn't be able to form three sentences about, and when she's with me and I'm with her, I feel like I don't have to be on guard, and that I can actually just enjoy her company. She reminds me of you sometimes, actually. Moreover, she reminds me more of…"

"Hermione does remind you of Melinda sometimes," Albus finished, the crease of worry between his eyebrows deepening at Minerva's monologue. This must have been on her mind for much longer than the past month, he knew. Else, she would never have voiced how she felt like this, even if he knew she was undoubtedly holding a great deal back as well.

"Indeed," Minerva admitted. "Melinda came into my life at a point where I thought I would never really get the chance of finding romantic love again, feel what I felt for Dougal and be able to still be myself, especially after Elphinstone," she reminisced. She had loved Dougal McGregor, the farm boy from the family further up the road from where she had grown up, with all her heart, but she had loved her magic, too. Often after having given him the ring back and after her conversation with her mother about what it would mean to marry a Muggle, she had wondered what might have happened, had Dougal McGregor just been a wizard as well.

Time and again she had come up with the answer they would have made the happiest couple ever. However, her mother had had a point in saying that it was harder than she thought to keep such an important part of yourself hidden and that it could not only be dangerous for yourself but the person you loved as well if one day the overload of unused magic channeled its way from you. The memory of herself as a little girl using her unchannelled accidental magic and how her father hadn't understood and her mother hadn't managed to put it into words until later and the fights that had followed also had helped to convince her she didn't want to go down the same path, no matter how much she loved Dougal.

During her time at the Ministry of Magic Minerva had had several liaisons with men and women as she tried to forget him, before managing to get a grip and dedicating herself to being a teacher. She had never loved Elphinstone romantically, but when he had shown so much love for her and the acceptance of her not being able to return the love in the same way, Minerva McGonagall had seen no reason not to marry him and had even learned to appreciate the safety and support he had offered her during their short-lived marriage, even if she had never been in love with him.

She never would have thought to feel what it was like to be in love again, have children… but then Melinda had come into her life when she got hired as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It had been beautiful and something cherished until Melinda had been killed by Lord Voldemort himself before Harry Potter defeated him for the first time a few months later. Part of her had never forgiven herself for not having been home that August day, instead having been stuck in a meeting at the Ministry in regarding Hogwarts matters in Albus' absence, even if Albus had often reminded her that it would certainly have lead to her own death as well.

"Minerva, love is one of the most beautiful things in the world, and I actually believe that this can work. I don't want you to look back on this moment at the end of your life and regret the decision you made," he said, before lowering his voice. "We both know it hurts more to regret something you didn't do than something you did."

"I don't see it, Albus. You know just as well as I do that even if Wizarding folk are more accepting of same-sex relationships, it doesn't exclude you from being judged and come across a lot of hate. I've been there already with Melinda, and I don't particularly want to put Hermione through the same. Also, how can something like this be right, being with someone about half a century younger than I am? I still see her before me as the eleven-year-old with the excited look in her eyes as I told her she was a witch…"

"She's not an eleven-year-old any longer, Minerva," Albus stated firmly. "Since the incident during the battle, she's much closer to your age. Also, I believe you should let the choice be up to Ms. Granger. Love can overcome a lot of things, for instance lots more than the consequence of an untraditional relationship."

"Untraditional?" Minerva challenged, raising her eyebrows. "That's a gentle way of putting it. Also, I don't believe the effects of the incident will be valid for much longer, considering Poppy believes she might have a solution after an experiment in the United States. Hermione may be back to her normal self very soon, which I want for her. It isn't fair to live the life of someone she hadn't had the chance to grow into."

"It was enough for you to momentarily put your rationalizations aside and give in to your heart's desires."

"Albus, why are you being so stubborn on this?" Minerva asked, sighing deeply.

"I see the chance on love I never gave myself, and I don't want you to ever look back with regret, to make the same mistake I did," Albus replied in a voice of defeat. Minerva McGonagall was very good at being down-to-earth, sometimes a little too good. "You have no reason not to let yourself be happy… I see the way she looks at you, too, Minerva," he said.

"She pushed me away earlier, Albus. I can't–" Minerva began in rebuttal when she heard and felt the twinge of magic that indicated the griffin guarding the magical spiral staircase to her office moving aside. This was really not the ideal moment to have to deal with Filch or another incident that required her focus and professionalism, both of which she could barely muster at the moment. It is what came with the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts, though. Raising to her feet again and turning to the door to greet the visitor, she had a handful of seconds before the knocking on the door to register the footsteps and to recognize them, before the door to her office opened after a barely loud enough "Come in!", revealing none other than the Hermione Granger they had been talking about. Minerva felt her heart stop for a second at the sight of her. She felt a shame overcome her again after what had happened earlier, yet also still a strange sort of excited she had always thought she was long past.

"I'm sorry for pushing away, before."

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	14. Chapter 14

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 14   
**

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"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated, closing the door and leaning back against it, eyeing the headmistress carefully. "I was shocked, and I needed just a few minutes to realize that you had done exactly what I have been wanting to do or have been wanting you to do for a while now. You've made me feel safe here, accepted, and I don't believe I ever would have managed to be strong enough to stay and to get through this if it hadn't been… for you."

To say Minerva was surprised to hear those words definitely would be understating it. She wasn't sure what she had expected –– after all, she, too, thought that she had seen something shimmering in Hermione's eyes along with the ways she had thought of her former pupil before they kissed. It definitely wasn't her coming back to tell her running had been a mistake after leaving her in the hallway like she had, though. She might have thought Hermione saying it was a mistake that shouldn't have happened, but that didn't seem to be the way this conversation was headed in at all. Minerva held her breath as Hermione walked over to her slowly until she stood before her, just inches apart. "I hadn't expected this," she stated, honestly.

"Me neither," Hermione responded. "I just… I am analytical and when something rather unexpected happens, you never know how I will react –– even I don't."

"I've always been… _analytical_ as you say."

Hermione merely smiled at her former professor. They were only inches apart now, and all she wanted to do was lean in and kiss her, to revisit the moment they had shared in the hallway –– before she had run off to her chambers to get her mind together and decide what to do next. Shaking slightly, Hermione stood on the tips of her toes and touched her lips to the corner of Minerva's mouth, not quite finding the courage to kiss her full on the mouth yet. She hoped that Minerva would respond to this touch of lips. It would make it easier for her to continue to say what she had come for.

Any protest and rationalizations against their relationship died on Minerva's lips as she felt Hermione's lips touch the corner of her mouth. Turning her head a slight bit, Minerva captured Hermione's lips with her own, feeling the other woman respond. The electricity between them intensified as they both threw themselves into the moment, deepening the kiss and tasting each other for the first time. Hermione felt something amazing swirl within her abdomen, fluttering and expanding fast. She had never felt that way before, but the last she wanted was to fight it. She wanted, maybe needed, to dive into this headfirst. Becoming more aggressive and more secure at Minerva's response, she wrapped her arms about Minerva's neck and began to push her backwards. One emotion was taking the upper hand quickly within her, and that was incredible want. She didn't just want more of this. She wanted Minerva McGonagall.

Slightly surprised yet excited by Hermione's sudden aggression, Minerva felt reason leave her very fast. She felt the edge of her desk push against her lower back and only then realized that Hermione had been pushing them backwards and that she had let herself be walked backwards. With a soft gasp, their lips separated and the two women looked openly into each other's eyes. Minerva raised a hand to the other woman's cheek, cupping it. She was panting hard and loud. "Hermione, please…" she managed in between her labored breathing. "I'm not sure I can stop if you keep going like that."

"What if I don't want you to stop?" she asked, quite rhetorically, before leaning in and stealing a small kiss from Minerva's lips. She wasn't sure where the sudden confidence was coming from, but what she was saying was not any less true because of it. She didn't want Minerva to stop. She had never been with someone, and she didn't know how to be with a man, let alone a woman. The exhilaration of the situation somehow stilled the majority of the nerves, though, very uncharacteristically. She knew that she wanted more from Minerva, though. She wanted Minerva to take her to bed and have her merry way with her.

"Then you are foolish…" Minerva whispered, before returning the kiss, trying her hardest to keep it light and give Hermione an opportunity to leave if she wanted to.

"I don't really care…" came Hermione's breathless response. "Please, Minerva. I need to feel you. You can do to me all that you wish, but please, don't stop."

Minerva's willpower and reason were only so strong… Tightening her hold on the younger witch, she Apparated them to her bedroom with the last rational thought she could muster. As she touched her lips to Hermione's again, neither woman was all that aware or could really care about the change in surroundings. As Hermione fell back on Minerva's bed, the headmistress landed on top of her, the need to feel each other's bare skin surpassed all else, and both of them began to pull at clothes in a tries to bare each other, no matter how difficult their current position made it to do so.

It would have been more effective to just stop kissing for a moment and try to focus on undressing each other, but at last they found themselves naked on Minerva's bed, lying beside each other, facing each other and still kissing as if their lives depended on it. "T–touch me…" Hermione barely managed to breathe against Minerva's ear as she felt herself ache to feel more of her.

Minerva's hand upon her hip tightened, pulling gently to coax Hermione's leg over her own, pulling them closer to each other in the process. As their breasts touched, Hermione groaned in pleasure. Trailing her hand slowly up the side of the younger woman's body, Minerva finally released her lips and took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and look into darkened hazel eyes.

Even in the haze of pleasure, Hermione had to admit that a few nerves were beginning to take over feeling excited. She had always been at least a little insecure about how she looked, and that had definitely only increased since the incident. She was sagging in places that she normally wouldn't have without the incident, and also, this was her first time with anyone at all. She didn't know how many men or women Minerva had seen naked, but at least more than she had.

"What's the matter?" Minerva asked, hand halting right below Hermione's full globe.

"I'm just nervous…" Hermione whispered honestly. "Please, you don't have to stop."

"I disagree. I won't pressure you to go on with this if you feel uncomfortable with this…"

"I'm not," Hermione breathed, leaning in to kiss Minerva again, overcoming her nerves by reaching for Minerva's hand and leading it to her bosom, holding it there, encouraging her to continue what she was doing.

Minerva was hesitant at first to do so, but as their kiss became heated once more, she began to gently message Hermione's bosom, running her thumb across the gently pebbling nipple, enjoying it as it hardened more under her ministrations. Hermione moaned into her mouth. Ripping her lips away from the younger woman's she bowed her head and coaxed Hermione's nipple to her mouth as she pushed Hermione back into the mattress and crawled on top of her, straddling her. She let the flat of her tongue run across Hermione's pink nipple once, twice, before blowing gently, reveling in Hermione's gasp of pleasure before taking the entire nipple into her mouth and sucking gently, a hand going to Hermione's neglected full globe and circling the nipple lazily with her forefinger. Hermione's back arched.

The fact that Hermione seemed to like whatever she was doing encouraged Minerva to move down the younger woman's body and trail her kisses lower, from the side of her bosom over the midline of her body to her core…

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	15. Chapter 15

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 15   
**

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"Are you all right?"

Hermione blinked once more before turning her head to the side to look right into the face of Minerva McGonagall, the headmistress. She had woken before her and by the looks of it, had been watching her until she woke as well, lying on her side in bed, facing her. She nodded as she realized that she still hadn't given her answer, multiple seconds without a reply having caused a frown of something like worry to crease Minerva's forehead. "I am. You?"

"I am more than all right," Minerva replied, a small smile upon her lips, even if her companion could see that something seemed to be bothering the headmistress and stopped it from being one of the full-blown smiles she liked to see so much. "Do you regret what happened between us?" she asked, clarifying what it was that was causing the worry in her eyes, maybe a bit uncertainty as well.

Hermione clung onto the sheet with one hand to stop it from slipping down as she turned on her side to face Minerva better. It was slightly chilly now in the room, and the sheet was the only cover-up she had. Also, no longer in the heat of the moment, she felt more than slightly shy of her body, even if Minerva had seen it in all its un-glory earlier –– goodness knew how long ago that was now. "I don't regret it," Hermione whispered. "Do you?"

At that question, Minerva's eyes fluttered shut and remained so for a second too long to really reassure Hermione of the answer being positive. "I'm not sure," she admitted, holding the sheet against her bosom and turning and pushing herself in a sitting position with her other hand, Hermione following her in doing so. "You were my former pupil. It doesn't feel right to be with someone I've known as a little girl when I was already an old woman. I've taught you. I was a mother figure for you, and now I'm in bed with you."

"You are," Hermione admitted, letting her hazel eyes rove slowly over Minerva's appearance. There was something very sexy about her with some wisps of grey hair now having loosened from her tight bun to frame her face and a look of uncertainty on her otherwise always so stern face, her eyes still darkened even if not as much as earlier after their activities. The fact that Hermione knew she was all naked underneath the sheet she held clutched so hard only contributed to that. She had seen her naked mere hours or minutes or how long it had been ago, and she knew now that a perfectly soft milky white skin lay underneath the fabric –– the sort of skin she had found she liked to touch very much. "However, there's a flaw in your interpretation," she said with a sincerity and certainty she didn't really feel. She wasn't going to let Minerva talk them from this, though. "You were the one person I knew I could always rely on while I studied here, and I trusted your advice and searched for it when I needed it, that's true. However, I never saw a mother figure in you. There was something there that I couldn't feel for a mother even then, and maybe what I feel now is just that and has always been there, just in another shape, I'm not sure. It felt right to me… earlier."

"Dinner's in an hour only," Minerva whispered, noticing the uncertainty Hermione showed regarding the time frame. She saw the relief on the other woman's face as she said this. "It felt right to me as well, I wouldn't deny that. I just can't help feeling as if I've overstepped the boundaries of professionalism that shouldn't have been breached. After all, I'm the Headmistress of Hogwarts, dear Merlin, and I…"

Hermione shook her head slightly and placed a forefinger upon Minerva's lips to silence her. "Do you really mean to tell me no colleagues ever dated while teaching at Hogwarts, secretly or not? Listen, Minerva. When I came back, I was certain that I couldn't do it. I wasn't happy in France, but at least people left me alone about the incident and who I was before. I was confronted with people doing what I never had the chance to do there as well, but it was less in my face. Coming back lead to questions from the pupils, Harry and Ginny and Ron and everyone else… questions I wasn't sure I wanted or could really answer. You never asked questions. You were just there, as you've always been for me. I could just be me, regardless of how I looked and what it entailed during our chess matches, and I felt accepted. I replied to Harry and Ginny's letters because you really gave me the hope of acceptance by them as well, and I continued teaching because you made me believe that I was good enough to try it, even without saying anything. Sometimes, yes, the confrontation with what could have been is still hard to deal with, but I reckon that's always going to be the case… It's always been you who helped me to get through the rough patches in life."

Minerva sighed. Hermione's monologue had definitely touched her, but it also reminded her of the fact she couldn't keep Poppy's discovery to herself any longer either, and that seemed of way more importance than replying to this. After all, the possibility of her changing back to her true age might annul everything she had just said and create more possibilities for her, so she wouldn't have to settle with her. "Hermione, there's something I need to tell you before you interrupt me again. Madam Pomfrey received an owl from the United States yesterday, regarding an experimental way to reverse the unknown spell you got hit with."

For a second, Hermione seemed more than surprised, opening her mouth a few times without a sound leaving it as she processed the information. "Why now?"

"Well," Minerva said diplomatically, "We're another couple of years further along, and magic has advanced, much like for instance science. Poppy'll receive more information next week, and maybe we can even manage to change you back to yourself before next weekend…"

Hermione leant her head back against the wall, gazing at the ceiling blankly. This came very unexpected indeed. It was true that she wanted to go back to who she was supposed to be both in mind and in body, but Minerva had stated that it was an experimental thing as well. There seemed to be no guarantee at all that she would change back to looking like she was in her mid-twenties. Maybe it would age her even more or maybe it wouldn't work at all and then she had hoped so much for absolutely nothing again. Also, it would mean a big change. It would be distinctly easier to get used to who she was supposed to be than to being someone forty years older than she was, she knew, but Minerva already seemed to feel guilty over what had happened with her looking like she did. What would her changing back to looking in her twenties mean for their newly-found connection? She turned to Minerva, unable to voice even one of her many uncertainties.

"You will regret it if you don't at least try it," Minerva said, reading the insecurities that swam in hazel eyes. She could only guess which must be most prominent at this point. "I know for a fact that you will, and no one will cast any spell or make any potion until we're certain of it not backfiring on you. We would take all possible precautions."

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.


	16. Chapter 16

** Going Back, Going Forth –– Chapter 16  
**

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Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva both stood back as Hermione nodded to say that she was ready, making faces from the horrid-tasting potion she had just swallowed, which left a gross taste in her mouth. The two witches fleetingly shared a look, before the Mediwitch took a deep breath and raised her wand at the woman between them, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Waving it, she silently cast the spell that was supposed to activate the potion to reverse the spell the American Healers had thought might have caused the incident of Hermione's aging.

For a few seconds, it seemed like nothing was happening, until Hermione seemed to glow in an eerie yellow light. The woman looked at her own hands with open mouth as she so seemed to glow, reminding her of that very fateful moment during the Battle, just before with that same light, her life had altered and been changed forever. She wasn't sure on what to feel, but there was definitely an excited, hopeful curiosity.

It had been just yesterday that Minerva had informed her of the possibility of being changed back, that she had convinced her to go through with it… It had been just that morning that Poppy had informed her that she had gotten a response back from the United States much earlier than expected already; with the information that the experiment had been tested successfully and would be safe to try on Hermione as well. It had been just that morning that she had asked Minerva to be there with her.

Hermione turned to Minerva before eyeing Madam Pomfrey, opening her mouth to ask their opinion, in general, when it all went wrong, the glow about her having expanded in the last seconds and blasting everything surrounding her away, and with that both Minerva and Poppy. She instinctively reached for her ears as a loud bang resounded, accompanying the fusillade she seemed to have caused.

Removing her hands she noticed that her skin had stopped glowing. Pushing herself up from the edge of the bed, she got to her feet and hurried to Minerva, sinking down on her knees beside her while looking at the Hogwarts Mediwitch, seeing her stirring slightly, which caused her racing heart to slow down just a little. "Minerva?" she whispered, causing the headmistress to groan and move her head slightly as well before opening her eyes and looking up in her face. The wide-eyed look that overtook Minerva's expression worried Hermione, though. She must look a sight, she thought, just like Minerva herself and Poppy did, but still, that didn't seem to be enough to cause that reaction. Worried, Hermione placed a warm hand on Minerva's shoulder to help her get into a sitting position, and realized the reason for Minerva's wide-eyed look. She managed to wait until she was certain that Minerva was sitting steadily before pulling her hand back and inspecting it closely. This was not her hand –– not the one of her sixty-five-year-old self, at least.

"I'm not sure the spell worked well. I believe it backfired before it could reverse the original spell entirely, but you've definitely de-aged."

Hermione caught her reflection in a piece of broken glass that had been blasted from the side closet and studied herself carefully, touching her wrinkle-free face. She definitely still looked older than she was supposed to according to her true age, but now she looked much closer to the appearance of her mother before she had sent her folks off to Australia. She quelled the pain she felt rising up in the pit of her stomach at the thought of them and turned back to the Mediwitch. "How old would you say I looked like?"

"I would say maybe twenty years older than you truly are," Poppy answered.

Hermione considered this. She had turned twenty-four one and a half weeks prior, so that would make her body that of a forty-four-year-old. She hadn't actually celebrated her birthday, but instead had just let it pass by like any other. Of course, Harry and Ginny and others who had known of her birthday had sent her cards and cake and the likes, but still no one at Hogwarts had known. She had a feeling that Minerva had known either way but had accepted her ignoring it as much as possible. She had briefly considered asking the people from her past she was still, or rather: again, in touch with to please let it pass by but had decided that that would most likely be useless. A thought struck her as she considered the life of someone in her mid-forties. "Would this body enable me to have children of my own?" she questioned. After all, one of the things she had regretted the most about being forced into the body of someone in their mid-sixties was that it didn't allow for that, whereas she had always really wanted to have children ever since she was a little girl.

Madam Pomfrey nodded at her with certainty. "It would. Witches and wizards age much slower."

A warm smile passed over her features at the response she got, but it disappeared as she felt Minerva get to her feet beside her. Hermione got to her feet as well. Minerva hadn't said much since their little conversation after waking up together the day before, but due to the unexpectedness of the news from the United States and the fast response, she hadn't really had the chance to sit down and really talk to her. However, she saw it now, and she had a good idea in what direction Minerva's mind was going now, and she had to stop it from spiraling in the wrong direction any further. Their gazes connected for a second, and Hermione saw the pain reflected in emerald eyes. She reached for Minerva's hand just as the headmistress decided to Apparate.

As the scenery changed and they both stood there by her desk, they looked at each other confused for no more than a second in which they both realized what must have happened. "Minerva, what we shared yesterday wasn't meaningless to me and even if I can't deny my current situation fueled it, this doesn't change anything. There are so many things that this change offers me, even if the spell wasn't reversed entirely, and I plan to take full advantage of being able to grab this chance again, but by no means does this change what I feel for you nor make me not want you beside me still every step of the way. I…" With that, she grasped Minerva's hands. "I love you."

"I… love you, too."

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~ FINITE INCANTATEM

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As always, reviews are quite welcome.

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-x-X-x-

_"Going Back, Going Forth"_ was a challenge that **MegaNerdAlert** offered me, and which I accepted; **peetsden** accepted to beta read. Without them, this fic would never have been written and posted. I have been a part of the HG/MM 'community' for a long time, and I've met some great people, like my beloved **Renard Noir** , but this fic's made me realize that I don't enjoy it anymore like I used to, and that maybe a time for me to move on to other fandoms has come. I find it more than unlikely that I'll post another HG/MM. I hope that you've enjoyed my stories over the years as much as that I enjoyed to write them in the 'good, old days'. I wish everyone the best of luck in life.

McGonagall's Bola


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